


A Little More Than Just A Linguaphile

by TheBeautifulLove



Category: K-pop, NCT (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Feelings Realization, Freeform, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Growing Up, Kink Exploration, Language Kink, M/M, Romance, jisung is kunfused ans so are his hyungs, kind of, maybe???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25066804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBeautifulLove/pseuds/TheBeautifulLove
Summary: Jisung realises he might or might not have a foreign language kink, so he sets out to investigate.He has a theory and a handful of (mostly suspicious and confused) test subjects but something is missing. A certain variable he hasn't accounted for.
Relationships: Park Jisung/Zhong Chen Le
Comments: 6
Kudos: 200





	A Little More Than Just A Linguaphile

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> So, this is quite random. Even though I'm in the middle of writing a yoonmin fic,   
> which is not doing great and no one really reads it lol I just had this idea  
> while watching Jisung's enamored face whenever Chenle speaks Chinese.  
> Enjoy! :)

Jisung must be now entering that phase, he reckons. That awkward phase between a teenager and an adult, the one where a lot of things he sees in movies and reads in books are somewhat familiar yet still at the same time, very much foreign to his young eyes. 

But what’s really special about this stage is that he wants to find out more. He’s not satisfied with just “kind of knowing”. He wants the details, the full picture and one of the concepts that’s under the grand umbrella term of “things Jisung wants to know better” is sex. 

He’s been thinking about it for some time now, cheeks burning and unsure where to start. So, in the end he’s decided to just leave it for now. Maybe one day he’ll gather the courage to go and ask Taeyong hyung or someone about it. 

However, the very next evening, his careful plan has gone to waste. 

He was going to play games with Chenle. He knocked on the door and heard no response even though there were some sounds coming from the room that sounded like the older boy. He knocked again; this time louder. 

‘Come in!’ He finally got the answer he was looking for. 

Chenle was on his bed with phone next to his ear. He was speaking in his native tongue with probably one of his parents. He raised his index finger indicating for Jisung to wait a minute so, the boy sat on the edge of the bed slowly and watched his friend. 

He couldn’t look away. He always loved listening to people speaking other languages and always had a lot of respect for those who could speak more than one. Not for the first time, he found himself completely absorbed in the sounds coming out of Chenle’s mouth but this time even more so. Different to when he speaks Mandarin in interviews, when he speaks to his parents, he sounds even more foreign, exotic, fascinating. 

Jisung isn’t sure what it is. Perhaps it’s his home accent coming out but it sounds slightly louder somehow, more aggressive, more confident. In Korean, Chenle sounds softer and more delicate even now when his ability has improved immensely, but in his native language he sounds... He sounds like the boss of the world. 

Jisung’s been so immersed in it that when the conversation has finished and Chenle ended the call, he immediately began to miss it. Waking from his daze, blinking slowly while the other stared at him with a concerned look, he was trying to come back to reality. 

‘Are you feeling okay, Jisungie?’ He asked in Korean, getting slightly closer to him on the bed. ‘Your face is all red.’ 

He instinctively brought his hands to his cheeks and sure, they were hot as hell. ‘Yeah, I’m fine, just feeling a bit warm, I guess.’ He mumbled in response. He truly didn’t feel so great, he thought that maybe he’s catching a cold or something. His heart was beating louder than normal too. 

‘You sure?’ Chenle gave him another concerned look, eyes not leaving the younger’s face even for a second. 

That didn’t help Jisung’s well-being at all but what was worse was that Chenle got even closer, he placed his cool hand on the maknae’s forehead and preceded to say something in rapid Mandarin, more to himself than to the other boy. Chenle scrunched his brows and dragged his hand from the forehead down to his cheek then stopping at his chin, holding it gently. He looked him deeply in the eyes and said something else, still in the language that Jisung doesn’t understand and can’t even pick up a single word he might know. All he takes note of is that the last sentence was slower, more deliberate and sounded more sensual somehow, just from the tone alone. 

‘What?’ He breathed heavily into the space between them, frozen and melting at the same time. 

‘No, nothing.’ The older boy suddenly dropped his hand from Jisung’s face and laughed shortly. Fortunately for Jisung’s sanity, he was back to speaking Korean. ‘I was just mumbling to myself... You don’t seem to have a temperature but take some preventive medication when you get back to your room later, just in case.’ He got up and began to set the game up. ‘It’s flu season after all.’ 

In that moment, Jisung knew he’s definitely catching something. He could feel it in every cell of his young body. 

Looking at it from his current perspective, he wishes it was a flu. 

Instead, after struggling the whole evening, losing almost all the games they played, he felt confused and humiliated. He left the other’s room assuring Chenle that he was fine but he felt far from it. On wobbly legs he reached his own hotel room and collapsed on top of the bleached white sheets, burning from the inside. 

It was a weird sensation, it stretched far down, starting from his neck all the way down to his toes. He wasn’t sure if he was physically unwell or mentally exhausted or simply frustrated at losing against the older boy or maybe all of those at once. All he could suddenly think about, laying motionlessly on the big bed, was the way Chenle looked at him while speaking in Mandarin. The way it seemed like the time has stopped; the way Jisung was drinking in the words, like a thirsty man in a middle of a hot desert, having no clue what they meant anyway. 

He got up into a sitting position, deciding to drink some cold water in hopes of calming himself down and bringing his body’s temperature down. However, he quickly encountered another problem. The nature of the said problem was uncomfortable and puzzling. 

Park Jisung sat on his bed, staring at what clearly was an erection underneath his black shorts. 

All of a sudden, everything was becoming painfully clear. 

He collapsed back on the bed, long limbs spread out, unable to look at the current situation between his legs. 

‘Oh, God, no.’ He whined pathetically into the silence of his room and his brain still had the audacity to bring back the very scene that has caused all the trouble in the first place back in front of his eyes. He squeezed them shut tight but the image refused to leave, the sounds were almost real, ringing in his ears. 

It was painful and it burned. 

*** 

That awful evening was what has sparked it all. Because how could he leave it alone now? It was serious. It was new, it was... wrong. Well, not really wrong but definitely unconventional and surprising. 

It was only natural that he had to investigate it further. 

‘You want me to do... what?’ Yuta looks at him like Jisung has suddenly grown another head. 

The younger sighs and runs his hand through his blonde hair. ‘Hyung, I know it may sound weird but please, just help me out, okay? I’m not asking for that much.’ 

The other boy opens his mouth then closes it again, not knowing how to start. ‘Okay, so let me get this straight. You want me to look you deeply in the eyes and talk in Japanese for a bit?’ 

He sits heavily on the bed, next to his hyung. ‘Yeah... and if you could also sound a bit... um... kind of like you’re trying to flirt with me, that would be very useful.’ 

It seems Yuta is giving up on trying to understand, he chuckles a little inwardly and clears his throat. ‘Okay, ready?’ He gets close to Jisung’s face, his big eyes fixed on his own. The maknae nods eagerly. Soon there are words in Japanese leaving the older boy’s mouth and Jisung instinctively moves closer, glances at the other’s lips briefly before locking their eyes again. 

He doesn’t try to understand anything Yuta is saying, he’s only focusing on the sounds and how they make him feel. The other boy is speaking somewhat slowly but it has a rhythm that entices Jisung, puts a spell on his brain. He suspects the closeness and eye contact has a lot to do with the effect it has on him. 

Yuta makes it longer after stuttering for a second, which at first seemed like he was about to stop but he adds more. The last sentence is whispered and chills run down Jisung’s back. 

Yuta moves back suddenly and looks at him, waiting. After a long pause, he finally asks. ‘Has this helped?’ 

Jisung closes his dry mouth and nods two times, moving away. ‘A lot, actually. Thank you, hyung!’ Before the older boy has the time to reply, the younger is already running out the door. 

In the empty corridor, he stops to breathe and think about it more. 

So, there is definitely something in it, now he knows for sure. His body is not indifferent when faced with proximity, eye contact and the sounds of foreign language. It likes it – his mind and body. However, what’s important to notice is that it doesn’t make him as bothered as that time in Chenle’s room few days ago. It doesn’t make his heart race that much, doesn’t burn like the heat of a thousand suns, doesn’t make him weak in the knees and lose all concentration. 

He looks down to the area few centimetres below his belly button. No problems over there this time around. 

‘Huh.’ He stares into space, arms loose by his sides. ‘Interesting.’ 

‘What is so interesting?’ Johnny asks, walking by, having overheard him. 

He looks at the taller boy for a long moment. ‘Hyung, would you have few spare minutes to help me with something?’ 

The American looks slightly confused for a single heartbeat before he’s nodding enthusiastically. ‘Sure, what’s up?’ 

Jisung looks around the empty corridor. This is not the ideal place to continue testing his theory. ‘Can we maybe go to your room for some privacy?’ 

Soon, they find themselves on Johnny’s bed; Jisung awkward, not knowing where to start and the older boy waiting patiently, eyes not leaving his face. 

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t rather talk to Taeyong about this?’ He suggests slowly when the silence begins to stretch for just a tad too long like the cheese on a pizza that seems to never break no matter how long you pull. 

‘It’s not something Taeyong-hyung can help me with, I’m afraid.’ He sounds so sure of himself. Serious too. Maybe he took the whole experiment conducting idea way too far. 

The young dancer watches Johnny’s eyebrows raise a little in surprise. ‘Okay.’ 

Jisung decides to just bite the bullet. ‘Hyung, it may be a bit of a weird request but please don’t judge me for it.’ He waits for the other to nod in agreement then continues smoothly. ‘I need you to talk to me in English for a bit and... while you do that, make sure you keep eye contact with me.’ 

‘Okay.’ The taller one replies and elongates the last syllable for a bit longer, similarly to how Mark so often does when he feels awkward. ‘Should I just start right away?’ 

Jisung nods and gets much closer to the other boy on the bed while Johnny starts speaking slowly in his native tongue. The closeness catches the older boy’s attention and he stops speaking for a second before continuing again. 

He’s heard this exact same voice; he’s heard it so many times during interviews and while watching JCC in hopes of improving his own English ability but he’s never noticed how sophisticated it sounds. It’s smooth and goes so well with Johnny’s already velvety voice. Jisung realises that it’s an entirely different thing to just hear a foreign language being spoken and to listen to it when the speaker’s attention in solely focused on you. 

He drowns in the sweet sounds he doesn’t understand and the words he does catch on, make it even more exciting; the way he thinks he can understand something vaguely about Johnny describing how proud he is of Jisung but at the same time, there is this fair chance that he misunderstood and it is in fact about something entirely different. 

He doesn’t even register when his heart begins to work faster; he doesn’t recall the moment he lifts his right hand and places it naturally on Johnny’s thigh. He senses something is wrong when the other stops and looks down for a split second. With a hazy, delayed motion he does the same and quickly removes his hand seeing how it now rests comfortably on the upper part of his hyung’s thick thigh. 

‘I think that should be enough.’ He quickly collects himself and moves away to stand. ‘Thank you so much for the help, I really appreciate it and sorry for taking your time, hyung.’ Just like in the previous case, he’s out the door as soon as possible without making it look like he’s running away. 

In his room that night he stares at the ceiling again and gathers all the information he has so far in his head. There are quite a few new facts he’s learned about himself today. 

Firstly, the biggest thing he simply cannot overlook is that he definitely likes being spoken to in foreign languages and it is something more than just fascination or simple liking of how they sound. It has a... sexual undertone. It makes him blush to even think about it. 

He reaches for his phone and researches it for a few minutes, at the end of which he learns that it is a thing and it’s called a “foreign language kink”. Well, at least, he’s not alone in feeling this way; he’s not some kind of freak. That’s always good to know. 

“When someone is turned on by being spoken to (usually in a sexual way) in a foreign language.” He stares for a few moments longer at the helpful explanation on the screen. However, it leaves him with another question he’s not got the answer for yet: why was his reaction the strongest that first time when Chenle spoke to him like that? He obviously very much liked when Yuta and Johnny did it too but why was the second and third time not as intense as the first? 

The last thing on his mind before he drifts off to sleep is that there must be another variable. Some important puzzle piece that he’s missing. 

*** 

So, the following morning, over a bowl of hot kimchi jjigae, Jisung thinks he might know what it is. Since his body has had the strongest reaction to hearing Chinese, and the second strongest when hearing Japanese, while the weakest hearing English, perhaps he’s more into the Asian languages rather than Western ones. 

Right after eating he goes straight to Ten’s room. In there, he experiences a lot of things, to say the least. 

From the very start, the Thai boy doesn’t even question his request; he just smiles prettily and invites Jisung to sit close next to him on his bed. 

‘So, what should I be saying?’ He asks excitedly. 

‘Um, something nice... I don’t know, you can complement me or you can even do the exact opposite, I won’t be able to tell anyway.’ Ten chuckles at that. ‘But please, make it sound like you’re saying something pleasant to me, hyung.’ 

‘Right.’ He sits a tiny bit closer. ‘I’ll start then.’ He announces then looks away momentarily to think, to prepare something to say, Jisung guesses, feeling anticipation and excitement building already in him at the very thought of what’s about to happen. 

Soon there are two dark eyes locked on his and Ten’s tone is lower than his Korean intonation, the foreign words begin to fly out of his mouth and the younger needs to remind himself to breathe. The way they flow, the clear tones of a native speaker that can probably be never truly, perfectly replicated by a foreigner, hit his eager ears. He feels it, the blood rushing faster, his whole mind attuning to the language the same way his mind does when it hears dance music, his body merely following behind. 

Halfway through, the older boy blinks at him as if knowing, as if realising what is happening to Jisung and he smiles brightly, reaching his hand out to run his long fingers through the younger’s hair lazily, then dragging it slowly lower to his cheek and then to the ear. It sends chills down his spine, his breath hitching. 

‘I...’ He interrupts suddenly, moving a little bit away; Ten’s hand drops back to his own lap but a small smile still plays at the corners of his lips. ‘I think I got what I needed, thank you, Ten-hyung.’ 

‘You’re welcome, Jisungie.’ 

The younger leaves the room slowly this time, lost in thought. He’s feeling warm all over. It’s a pleasant feeling; an energy within him that stays there, having nowhere else to go. He’s breathing heavily and his cheeks are hot. 

He must be onto something. It must be something to do with Asian languages in particular. 

He’s distracted all the while they’re practicing dancing for their NCT Dream comeback but he thinks nobody has noticed. He was very affected by the sound of the Thai language so close to his ear and the touching was igniting the fire even more. But yet still, it was not burning as much as the first time with Chenle. 

‘You alright?’ Jaemin is looking at him suspiciously when they sit on the floor to take a small break. ‘You barely said anything the whole day. Something on your mind?’ 

He looks at the other boy, freshly dyed electric blue hair almost hurting his eyes from this close proximity. ‘Just a bit stressed, like always before a comeback.’ He says because how could he tell him the truth. “Nothing much, hyung, just trying to figure out why the hell it turns me on so much when someone speaks in a foreign language and why does Mandarin in particular, deliver the biggest blow.” No pun intended. 

‘Ah, yeah. Me too.’ Jaemin admits and pats the younger’s shoulder in support. ‘It’ll be fine. Always is.’ 

‘It’ll be fine.’ He repeats like a parrot. The older boy leaves him to talk to the choreographer about something before he leaves for the day and Jisung hears something that catches his attention. 

He turns around to see Renjun and Chenle discussing something in rapid, loud Mandarin. They’re both gesticulating wildly and it seems that whatever it might be about, the conversation is quite heated. Jisung listens intently for a long moment, staying perfectly still. 

From the corner of his eye, Chenle notices him and glances at the younger boy without stopping talking to Renjun and it wakes. When their eyes meet, even though they’re sitting few long steps apart, in different corners of the room, it hits hard. In the split second before Chenle shifts his attention back to the older vocalist, Jisung burns. 

It’s back. That fire. The same one he felt that very first time in the other boy’s room, right before they played all those silly games that he’s hopelessly lost. He’s melting, hands firmly planted on the cold wooden floor of the studio right by his feet. His mouth dries upon the realisation, upon finding the missing variable he’s been searching for. 

His heart is doing somersaults in his chest as he stares at the side of the black-haired boy’s head, praying silently for one more glance his way. Nothing matters, nothing exists and it hurts again, his thoughts swimming mindlessly in the cold stream of his consciousness, it hurts; the pleasant kind of pain. 

He has the urge to run; his body wants to burst. His skin itches under the thin layer of sweat like an army of ants and this time he knows; he understands what’s happening so he also knows he can’t stay here any longer if he wants keep his dignity intact. 

Shouting “bathroom” like a complete idiot, he gets up quickly and runs to the door. He doesn’t know if anyone is looking at him as he leaves the dancing studio hurriedly but he needs to breathe. And he does, as soon as he’s alone at the end of the empty corridor. 

He ends up in the bathroom after all but it’s not for the reasons the rest of his team might think. For a moment he hates himself for discovering all these things. Perhaps it was best to leave it alone – one of those things you’re better off not trying to figure out but then when he looks in the big mirror on the wall, he thinks he sees himself in a different light. He sees someone more mature, more certain of his own character staring back at him. 

The kink itself is not even scary at all. It is what it is – a sexual preference, a specific taste. It’s the other part of the package that’s a totally different story which might have serious consequences. Because it’s Chenle. It’s the fact that his best friend is the one holding the match stick in one hand and the match box in the other, ready to rub at the striking surface, to light the fire. 

Chenle himself doesn’t even realise that there apparently is a perfect formula for making Jisung a hot mess on wobbly legs involving himself and his native language. 

That is the scary truth. He exhales tiredly. It’s going to be a long rest of his career as in idol as long as Zhong Chenle is part of the team. 

*** 

He tries. He really does. 

At first, Jisung thinks that those situations like the one in Chenle’s room over a week ago and the one in the dance studio will be so rare that he will be okay for 99.9% of the time. He tries to convince himself that it won’t be much of a problem, that it won’t mess with everything that he and the rest of the band have going on. 

Well, long story short, he is very wrong. 

What he doesn’t take into account is that he’s a growing boy turning into a man and that Chenle speaks more Mandarin than he’s realised. Another thing that he has not anticipated is that Jisung, going against his own decisions, will actively seek out those situations. 

His traitorous heart will stand above his brain, will deceive him and leave him wanting. 

‘You’re staring again, Jisung.’ Chenle doesn’t even turn to look at him when he says that. ‘Can I know what’s the reason this time? Is there something stuck on my face again or are you just lost in thought again or what is it this time?’ Well, it’s hard to pretend when someone reads you so well like Chenle reads Jisung. He might as well change his name to “Jisung Open-Book Park” at this point. 

He exhales loudly, staying silent, unable to come up with another pointless lie. The stretching silence makes the Chinese boy finally shift his attention from the game on his phone to Jisung, quizzical expression on his soft, fair features. 

‘How do you say “I treasure you so much and don’t want to ever lose you” in Mandarin?’ He asks instead, staring at the pretty, shining eyes of his friend. 

‘What?’ The older boy chuckles. ‘Do you want to say that to the Chinese fans or something?’ 

He smiles in relief. ‘Yeah...’ he breathes out the white lie weakly, his chest closing up. 

He watches Chenle open his mouth and a sentence in smooth, beautiful Mandarin comes out and all Jisung can do is get closer and stare dumbly into the other boy’s eyes. Chenle rolls those said eyes quickly before repeating again, slower this time. He begins to get more passionate about it then, explaining different ways of expressing the same thing and then mixing Korean into his speech to make the younger understand him. 

Something weird happens then. 

As Jisung listens to the mesmerising mix of fluent, native Mandarin and still slightly imperfect but familiar Korean, he feels frozen and at the same time taken back into the past. Suddenly, he remembers the small child he’s met at the competition in China, he remembers a cute laugh, remembers teaching the boy how to say “hello” in his own native tongue. He then remembers meeting again, as if a kind act of fate, teaching him the basics beyond the greetings, watching him improve with every new day spent together. 

He sees all these things in his mind and tears form in his eyes. Then there is a second of silence and warm hands on his shoulders. ‘Hey, Jisungie, are you crying?’ The concerned look on Chanle’s face makes him lose his whole track of thoughts for a moment. 

‘I’m fine, just continue, please.’ There is something broken, something new and desperate in his own voice but Chenle seems to understand him without asking. He nods quickly and continues, transferring smoothly to some grammar explanations that Jisung doesn’t even try to grasp, dropping one of his hands from the younger’s shoulders leaving only one lingering there. 

Jisung lets himself burn when Chenle holds the strong eye contact between them and maybe it’s Jisung’s greedy imagination but it feels like he’s doing it deliberately; it seems like Chenle is moving closer with every melodic sentence that leaves his pink lips. 

He lets himself drown in the feeling; maybe this moment won’t repeat itself again, maybe this is the only thing that will remain in his memories when he’s a mature man going through his mid-life crisis, regretting letting go of something so perfect, regretting keeping his mouth shut as if under a spell. 

But it can’t be one-sided. It can’t be that Chenle is not keeping on going without a purpose in mind, it can’t be that it’s all in his head – the tension in the air between them, the way he feels the hand on his shoulder apply more and more pressure as golden seconds pass by. It can’t be just him. 

So, painfully aware that he might be making the biggest mistake of his life, he opens his damned mouth. ‘Chenle...’ he sounds so turmoiled, breathless but what surprises him the most is how equally tiredly does Chanle exhale when he finally stops his lecture, how low his shoulders drop while he looks at Jisung in anticipation. He’s waiting and Jisung prays silently with all the strength he has left within him that he’s not reading it all wrong. 

‘Chenle, please don’t hate me for what I’m about to do.’ He’s whispering, getting even closer, they’re a single breath apart. Jisung raises his hands to hold the other’s face between his large warm palms and Chenle is not running away. He’s staying perfectly in place, his chest raising and falling visibly under his white expensive shirt and his eyes flutter closed, long eyelashes painting shadows on his cheeks. 

Looking at this stunning sight gives Jisung some outrageous confidence and so he leans forward until his mouth meets the soft obstacle of Chenle’s lips. It’s like watching a forest go down in flames in seconds. He can do nothing but feel himself burn and it’s something beyond his wildest fantasies and yet so good. 

He moves his mouth against the elder's boy’s slowly, tentatively, as if scared to do something wrong but the way Chenle responds so enthusiastically to everything he’s doing takes his breath away even more than the kiss itself. 

There are still doubts occupying his head but they no longer take the centre stage, they just float somewhere in between the excitement, the sheer panic and happiness he feels. 

It was Chenle all along. 

The missing variable he couldn’t figure out.


End file.
